


Small Mercies

by SHIBUIKING (Heeshura)



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Trans Male Character, not a big part of it but they are both trans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:01:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29041308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heeshura/pseuds/SHIBUIKING
Summary: "Oh come on, it wasn't that bad." Halduron pulls at the sleeves gently, insistent but not forceful."What's your name? I'm Hal."Another sniffle. "Aethas."
Relationships: Halduron Brightwing & Lor'themar Theron, Halduron Brightwing/Aethas Sunreaver, Rommath & Aethas Sunreaver
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

Eversong forest is bathed in the warm glow of sunset, the light warming young Halduron's cheeks as he lazes on the highest branch he could climb to. Which is higher than most youths his age but he eyes the branches higher up with distant envy, not for lack of trying, as his knees are green and scratched from grass stains and the jagged bark. His tired father has long given up protesting and resigns himself to scrubbing them away for the next few hundred years, for he knows from experience that a child as unruly as Halduron will not grow out of his reckless temperament that easily.

He'd almost dozed off in the soft warmth when he heard a branch snap. Not that far away, but far enough that he has probably gone unnoticed. He pulls his swinging legs in from the sides of the branch and scans the area.  
One thing from his parents he had taken to heart was not to stray too far into the forest, lest he become a little snack for the prowling trolls. Not that he would be scared, of course. He was a Farstrider apprentice after all and it'd take more than a measly troll to scare him.  
He's brought out of his wandering thoughts by another snapping noise and crunching leaves. He sees a shock of red hair this time, ears too big for the little head they rest at the sides of, and a satchel hanging around their body. Noone he knows has hair that bright. No sooner than he's come to the conclusion that it must be one of those reclusive magic-types does he begin to think up all the ways he could scare the poor child from his perch. But he doesn't have much time, and hardly any tools of mischief on him. He laments and takes the tried and true method instead.

He leaps out of the tree and lands behind the elfling, barely even stumbling, much to his pride. Cra-ack! The loud protesting noise from the underbrush makes the redhead shriek and fall to his knees in shock.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm-!"

Halduron's laughter drowns out the poor elfling's chanting whimpers, but it peters out when he realises he's scared them far worse than intended. He kneels down next to them and pats down their robe, brushing away dirt and leaves.

"Are you okay? I was only having a laugh."

The elfling doesn't respond, instead sniffling behind the baggy sleeves that move to cover their face.

"Oh come on, it wasn't that bad." Halduron pulls at the sleeves gently, insistent but not forceful.  
"What's your name? I'm Hal."

Another sniffle. "Aethas." There's a pause before they add. "I'm a boy, before you ask."

"Me too!" He grins, though Aethas is not looking to see it.

Halduron's tugging hands slowly pry away the sleeves and he gets a proper look at the elfling's face. Freckled cheeks and wide eyes wet with tears. Now that he can see him properly, it's almost comical how large his ears are for his head. If Halduron has to guess, he's older than Aethas by almost an entire human lifetime, which isn't that long for an elf, but to a child it makes all the difference.  
He takes in the satchel at Aethas' side once more, it definitely looks to be holding a book or two. A magister's erstwhile apprentice perhaps. It's not unheard of for elder magisters to take on startlingly young apprentices if they show great promise.

"Why are you out here? You're a bit small to be wandering this far."

"Lost a book."

"Lost it? Out here?"  
While it was true they weren't actually that far from Silvermoon's gates, it was still further out than most parents would allow their children without a guardian. Aethas wipes his eyes and nods. He doesn't elaborate.

"Well, I'll help you find it and then let's go home. I should be going back soon too or I'll get yelled at." He grins conspiratorially.

"Okay."

He takes Aethas by the hand and pulls him to his feet, taking care to brush more of the dirt off his probably too far gone robe. Magic types don't like dirty robes after all.

It's almost dark out by time they find the book but Aethas has fully relaxed and his tears have dried. His hand stays firmly in Halduron's throughout, though he's sure they both know it'd be faster to split up. He'd managed to pry the full story from his wobbling lips when they'd first started the search:

"Some other kids took it..." He'd trailed off, looking as if he was about to cry again. Halduron had squeezed his hand comfortingly and it had been enough to make Aethas continue.  
"They said I wouldn't be able to get it because I stay inside all the time."

"Well you proved them wrong!"

"Yeah!" Aethas had looked up at him with a watery yet determined smile.

The book was, as Halduron had suspected, a textbook on the subject of magic. Something far beyond his own ken, though he'd freely admit that wasn't exactly hard to find. Aethas pockets it into his satchel with a beaming face.

"Thank you!"

"My pleasure." He mocks the kind of bow he'd seen his fathers do to passing nobility. It's worth it for the little giggle he gets in return.

"You know the way back right?"

"Yep! I'm a Farstrider after all!" He neglects to mention the apprentice part in his satisfied bragging.

"That's so cool!"

"Isn't it?"

Aethas had let go of his hand at the gates, his face briefly turning to panic.  
"Oh, the time! It's so late, I didn't notice!"  
He glances at Halduron, then back in the direction Halduron assumes is either his own or his tutor's home, then back at him.

"I'm sure you'll be fine, at least you got your book back. Go on, hurry!"

"Yes, thank you!"

The boy darts off into the settling gloom surrounding the city. He knows his parents are going to be angry with him as well, but Halduron Brightwing is no rusher, no sir. He saunters off home at his own pace, a lazy grin over his features as he meanders into the closing bakery.  
It's well past a reasonable time when he finally walks into his home, his fathers crowding around him with scolds on their tongues and their arms wrapped around him.

\--

"This sucks."

Lor'themar snorts. "As you've said for the hundredth time already. Not that I don't agree."

"This suuuuuuucks."

They're sat amongst the rubble of Silvermoon. The scourge have finally been pushed back by the combined force of the Farstriders, city guardians, and triumphant return of Prince Kael'thas and his magi from Dalaran. Only then for them to break the news to him of his father's death.  
Despite their eventual victory, morale was devastatingly low. The funeral pyre of the king had been a short affair unbefitting of the great man, but it was a lot more than they afforded the rest of their fallen kind, who had all been burned the moment their bodies hit the floor. They could ill afford sentimentalism against the scourge.

The elves who had been present for the assault had a tired, haunted look to them, but the magi following prince Kael'thas were experiencing the horror of what happened for the first time. Some of them had thrown up as soon as the fighting stopped, others were standing listlessly at their prince's side, the blank look in their eyes bespeaking their horror.

They're brought out of their dismal reverie by shouting in the distance. Lor'themar moves his head slightly, but no further, likely already tired by the myriad arguments and squabbles he'd had to calm in recent days. Halduron shifts around fully to see their prince surrounded by magi.

"Forgive me for saying so, but you must be out of your mind, your highness! Please reconsider!"

"There's nothing to reconsider, it must be done!"

"The sunwell is too precious!"

"You dare argue with your prince?" A black haired magi speaks up, his tone hard.

"Rommath." The prince admonishes. "If we don't destroy we'll die, surely you've felt the foul energy polluting it."

The mage doesn't respond, looking down at her feet with a stricken expression.

The voices quiet down and Halduron glances at Lor'themar, who is holding his head in his hands.

"At least it's not our problem, technically." He says conversationally. It is, of course, very much their problem, but he's silently thankful that it isn't another terrible decision being dumped on his friend's feet. He's had enough of those already.

Lor'themar laughs, though it sounds bitter and cold. "I suppose. Small mercies." His mouth twists into a grim smile.

A blob of red passes by his periphery and Halduron starts, whipping his head around to see a redheaded elf disappear into one of the alleys. A redheaded elf wearing mage robes.  
He stands up suddenly.

"Hold- Hold on." He barely gives Lor'themar a glance as he starts moving.

"Now is hardly the time to get your dick wet, Hal."

"Oh shut up!" Any other time he would've engaged in that argument, but he feels strangely compelled to seek the elf out.  
"I'll be back soon!"

Lor'themar grunts behind him and watches him go curiously. He weaves his way through the rubble, trying hard not to think about the destruction marring their once beautiful city. He ignores the blood and almost trips over the remains of an abomination.

"Wait up!" He calls out to the elf who thankfully hadn't gotten very far.

The redhead turns around. His face is sickly pale but Halduron recognises the freckles and the too large ears.

"Aethas..."  
He never did grow into his ears, it turns out.

Aethas looks confused, his brow furrowed.

"You don't remember? You lost something in the forest."

His eyes open wide with recognition at last.  
"Oh! You!"

"Yes, me! I thought I'd never see you again, you weren't kidding about being a recluse. You were in Dalaran all this time?"  
He jogs up and slaps a hand on Aethas' back, who clearly hadn't been expecting it and started.

"Well, not all this time, obviously, but-"

"Hanging out with the prince, huh... too good for us. You sure grew up handsome as well...”

"Wh- no!" The tips of Aethas' ears glow red.  
"As if I would want to hang out with him, his minder has the temper of a harpy." He whispers conspiratorially, as if this mysterious elf would materialise at any point. Halduron's mind flickers back to the black haired elf at Kael'thas' side.

"I'm only teasing. I'd been hoping to see you again, you know."

Aethas seems at a loss for words. He glances at Halduron, then at the floor, then back at Halduron. It's all a bit nostalgic.  
"I'm... sorry?"

"Hmmmm, you can make it up to me by telling me about what you've been up to. What's it like living with humans?"

He huffs a laugh. "Trying. But I've learnt so much! It's amazing how much new ground they've covered, even though their lives are so short."

"Halduron!" A muffled yell in the distance. "Hal!"

Halduron makes a face. "Alas, duty calls my friend. I'll come see you sometime, 'kay? Take care of yourself."

Aethas beams. "You too! I'm glad you survived."

"I'll make sure that doesn't change, either." He bows in the same exaggerated fashion he always has and sprints off back where he came from, leaving a happy but confused elf in his wake.


	2. Chapter 2

Halduron is thoroughly shocked the first time he sees Aethas and Rommath fight. Not because he hadn't been expecting it at some point, but because of the sheer ferocity brought forth from both sides.

He'd only gone in there looking for Lor'themar, loyal friend as he was, and instead he'd been greeted with a red in the face Rommath and a furious looking Aethas, the yelling echoing off the walls of the scuffed kitchen of the inn they'd been hunkering down in. They'd found it mostly intact and converted to something not entirely different from its original purpose.  
He feels a bit like he'd walked into a fight between two lynxes, snarling and swiping viciously to decide which one wins the day's accidentally shared hunt.

"If you could act civil for longer than five seconds we'd actually get something done!"

"Mewling little whelp! You dare speak to me like that after y-"

"Exactly what I'm talking about! You shame yourself, Rommath."

The image of Aethas that Halduron has in his head is of that tiny, shy little boy who'd been close to tears, clutching his hand like a lifeline. Seeing him toe to toe with the demon that Halduron had quickly learned Rommath to be was eye opening. Shocking, even. He was keeping his cool admirably. Rommath on the other hand... He'd never seen so much emotion from him before, though the time in which they'd had the misfortune of knowing each other was only a few weeks. Rommath kept his emotions close and hidden behind his high cowls and scarves; he spoke tersely with the other magi, not at all to anyone else. On one somber night, Lor'themar had drunkenly confessed to him feeling something akin to pity for that lonely creature. Halduron could do no such thing when said creature verbally beat him black and blue on a daily basis. Harpy indeed.

"You can't possibly have deluded yourself into thinking those humans are more important than us!"

"Dalaran is your home too!" Aethas' tone takes on a pleading note.

"They left us for dead!"

"These are tough times for us all! We must work together!"

"After everything we've done for them?"

Rommath sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. It looks like an argument they'd had more than a few times already. Halduron can't honestly say he doesn't sympathise with Rommath.  
Aethas spots Halduron and straightens up quickly. He folds his arms and stalks out.

"Prince's pet." The words are quiet and filled with a vitriol that surprises Halduron again.

"Serving him is a pleasure greater than you will ever know."

He suddenly feels like he very much should not be there, to be privy to such a raw sentiment. He stands awkwardly in place and stares blankly at the ceiling as Aethas brushes past him.

"Mouth closed, ranger, or you'll find yourself catching flies." Rommath's voice is dry, calm, already having schooled himself back into his high and mighty persona.  
"Do try not to eat our entire rations."

And with that, he's left alone in the kitchen. He doesn't even remember what he'd come for.

\--

"You haven't changed at all have you?"

The voice comes from behind him. The moon sits high in the sky and illuminates Aethas' freckled face when he walks into view, sitting himself down next to Halduron on the rubble of a toppled spire. He only hums in response. The night is quiet, thankfully, and his vigil is disturbed only by his own uncertain loneliness. The kind of lingering sorrow that would normally accompany him after he'd gotten kicked out of a bar for the night, with not a single warm body in his arms. The kind that sinks deep into your bones.

"That's what Lor'themar tells me too."

Aethas nods slowly. He doubts the two had ever had a conversation beyond a few relayed messages here and there. He thinks they'd get on well though. Perhaps in times of less crisis.

"You've changed though." He glances at Aethas finally, holds him in his gaze.

"I'm told that a lot too, but it's not by a lot." Aethas chuckles and it sounds a little self-depracative.

"Still getting your books stolen?"

He's rewarded with a scowl for that one and Halduron grins at him.

"I should certainly hope not!" He sighs. "I'm sorry you had to see that argument."

"I didn't think you had it in you to be honest."

"Rommath brings out the worst in me."

"Looks like that door swings both ways."

Aethas huffs a laugh again and it sounds as dour as the last one. "Yeah, it might. I usually try to steer clear but no matter the schedule we always seem to bump into each other. ...Anyway, that's not why I came."

He resists the urge to waggle his eyebrows at that one. The mood doesn't seem right. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" He puts on his best posh magister voice and leans into Aethas' personal space. The body heat radiating off him is pleasant and unexpected. Fire mages, he thinks wistfully.

Aethas looks a little skittish and leans away. "I just wanted to talk. About what you've been doing and... you know. There's not a lot to be happy about lately."

"You should come drinking with me and Lor sometime, that'll really get our tongues wagging."

"Lor'themar? He seems a decent sort." He can tell Aethas doesn't really know what to say. Shy around new people perhaps?

"My oldest and bestest friend."

Aethas looks at him expectantly. He pins him with a scrutinising stare in response, his gears are turning now.

"How about this: you tell me something and I'll tell you something back." He doesn't wait for a reply. "I met Lor'themar during my Farstrider apprenticeship, he has a few decades or so on me. Roguish sort, the kind you hear about in stories. All handsome and mysterious with his charming wit."

"He seems a little serious to be friends with you."

"Only because of... well. You know." Halduron waves his hands vaguely. "Back in the day he was almost as bad as me." He turns to point a finger in Aethas' face. "Not an exaggeration by the way. One time he had me dangling from a tree by my heels for half a day before I cut the rope and got myself down. Crafty bastard. I got him back for it, obviously."

"I pity the tutors." Aethas has a little grin on his face, only half hidden by the hands resting on his chin.

"You'd do well to! I was a scour- Ah, a force of nature. Not to brag, except I am bragging actually because I was- AM that good. Anyway, your turn."

"What, that's it? I want to hear more." Aethas whines at him.

"After your turn. Though it really would be best if Lor was here to help with his no doubt false recollections and embellishments of what actually happened."

The broad smile on Aethas' face is worth everything. He thinks back to the countless times he'd ended up chatting for hours with fresh faces at new bars and painfully misses it. Surround yourself with smiles and you will never be lonely. The pain of loss lances through him again, as if he hadn't fully processed it the first few times, looking out over a city painted with crude bloodstains and mangled bodies. He wondered if the smell would ever truly disappear.

He rests his head on Aethas' shoulder and looks at him expectantly. Thankfully, he doesn't comment on the sudden change of mood.

"Hmm... I don't-... I don't really have many stories."

"Living in a city full of human mages? I find that hard to believe."

Aethas sputters. "Well- I mean, yes, but it's all... second-hand. Kael'thas would have stories."

"I don't want them from Kael'thas. Well actually that's a lie I absolutely do want them from the Prince, but not right now!" He thinks for a moment. "Did you have a best friend?"

A stricken look makes its way to the redhead's face. "Mmm... maybe? Sort of... No?"

Halduron keeps his gaze on Aethas even though it's starting to hurt his neck at this point.

"Umm... How about this? There's a gnome who uses his water elemental to do laundry-"

"What, no way! Why don't we do that?"

"How am I supposed to know? I imagine it would be somewhat galling for the elemental."

"Those things have feelings?"

Aethas scrunches up his face and doesn't speak for a moment, seemingly collecting his thoughts. "Sort of? Maybe?"

"I thought mages were supposed to know."

"I'm not a genius! Nor am I particularly skilled in frost magic! Anyway that's not the point at all."

"Isn't that ki-"

"Shut up!"

He tries hard not to laugh, he really does. In the end a little snort lets its way loose and he's greeted with a shove, almost sending him sprawling onto the cold stone. Aethas looks flustered and he can't help but think it's terribly endearing.

"May I continue now?" He sounds petulant and it matches the pout on the cute face. The smile on Halduron's face is starting to hurt his cheeks, but he nods anyway, wisely choosing to keep his mouth shut.  
"Thank you. Honestly, you're incorrigible aren't you. Anyway I was saying, and perhaps this is the reason why we don't do this in Quel'thalas, on more than one occasion I had the misfortune of finding my clean clothes in the damned fountain. I think the one time Prince Kael had his underwear washed by them was also the last time."

He looks at Halduron and his expression quickly turns to dread.

"Oh, no, I shouldn't have told you that, don't look at me with those eyes of mischief you scoundrel." His hissed words only serve to widen Halduron's already aching smile.

"Oh come on I can think of at least 15 new pranks to pull on Lor if you let me borrow you."

"I will not be complicit in whatever it is you two have going on."

"I don't know about that one." Halduron drawls out. "I'm sure you could be persuaded to change your mind."

"Isn't there some kind of... I don't know- bastard's honour?"

"Absolutely not, all's fair in love and war."

"By the sun, I've made a terrible mistake." He looks balefully at Halduron. "You may as well make it up to me."

Those are the magic words. Anyone else, in any other situation, and he would've swiftly closed the gap with a kiss. Something slow, explorative, not too long lest he lose his opportunity to pull back and gaze into their eyes, gauging their reaction and always leaving them wanting more. He wants to. It goes against every bone in his body to get up and return to his spot from earlier, leaving his head far from Aethas' shoulder this time. The absolute last thing he wanted was to scare his friend off, in case it ruined that very same tentative new friendship. He's not giving up. It's just a strategic retreat.

"You were telling me about Lor'themar?"

"Ah, yes."


End file.
